Call the Doctor
by night.ixora
Summary: The Doctor and the Ponds fall into an adventure with Sherlock and John. This is more of an experiment and exercise in writing out of my comfort zone. 11th/Amy/Rory and Sherlock/Watson
1. The Message

"Rory! Clean out your pockets. We don't need dragons running amok on the TARDIS," the Doctor hollered through cupped hands as he walked backwards onto his ship. His face was sulky as he adjusted his bowtie. "Come along, Ponds!" He threw up his hands in disgust. "What a monumental disappointment."

Rory and Amy entered the TARDIS soon after the Doctor. A small, burgundy fairy-like dragon was perched on Amy's shoulder, hiding itself in a draping of her bright red hair. The miniature beast resettled its wings, nuzzling her neck. When it squeaked for attention, Amy lifted her hand absently to gently stroke its leathery wing.

"Oh, I don't think it was all that bad," Amy said, her last few words going up in pitch as she coo'ed at the dragon. Rory reached out to pet the tame looking animal and was rewarded with a less than playful nip at his fingers. Amy only laughed as Rory and the dragon sized each other up critically. "The dragons are so cute."

"Cute is not an adventure." The Doctor started into an agitated pacing. He glanced in Amy's direction when she didn't respond. Spotting the dragon, the Doctor did a double take. "No—no, absolutely no more pets or stowaways."

Amy pouted, continuing to pet the dragon. "So the dragon invasion wasn't quite what you thought it was going to be, but you don't have to take it out on Dash here." She inclined her head the dragon and shook her finger at the Doctor.

The Doctor only gave her a stern look. "No. You can't have the dragon. I let you keep Rory."

Rory perked up at the mention of his name, breaking him from his glaring competition with Amy's dragon. "Wait—she doesn't _keep_ me."

They ignored him. Amy and the Doctor stared each other down before she eventually sighed and rolled her eyes. She coaxed the dragon onto her palm and disappeared out the TARDIS doors.

Rory rocked back onto his heels, pursing his lips before he interrupted the tense silence. "It really wasn't all that bad," Rory said. "There is something appealing about a trip that doesn't place our lives in peril." The centurion smiled to himself, picturing the delight on Amy's face as they were overrun by the tiny playful dragons.

The Doctor placed his hands on his hips, staring at Rory as if he were the strangest creature alive. "Are you mad?" Admittedly, his tone was a bit sharp from the disappointment of not being able to ride a dragon like he had anticipated once he had heard about the destructive dragon migration. Damn miniaturizing animal flu going around.

Rory Williams snapped out of his reverie, giving the Doctor an annoyed look. "No—I'm pretty sure _not _wanting the looming threat of death constantly hovering over us is the opposite of mad."

Amy stormed back into the TARDIS, pulling the doors closed firmly. "There." She glared at the Doctor, crossing her arms over her chest. "Spoilsport. No need to get cranky over one itty bitty dragon."

The Doctor plopped himself down on the bench in front of the console and crossed his long legs, trying to think of something better than dragons. The Ponds didn't quite grasp why he was so keen on an exciting, proper adventure. He dreaded the placid trips out because he was sure the tameness gave Amy and Rory time to think about and miss their other life. He wanted something that would remind them why they travelled with him. The Doctor itched for an unforgettable escapade.

In the uncomfortable silence, Rory had moved over to Amy, taking her hand in his. They exchanged looks. Amy cleared her throat. "Maybe it's time to think about a break," she said very quietly. She wondered and worried about the pressure the Doctor was under travelling with companions. When Rory and Amy lay in bed unable to sleep, she voiced concerns that they were holding him back. Also, they were forgetting what they kept in standby in their old lives. She hugged Rory's arm. "I think Rory misses his dad." She blurted out. When Rory seemed about to protest, Amy tugged his arm sharply and gave him a look.

"Uh, yeah," Rory agreed, nodding his head solemnly. "Dad was having plant—issues—when we left…." Amy smacked him on the arm.

The Doctor straightened his coat, hiding his disappointment. "Right. Humany wumany responsibilities." He smiled bravely. His face scrunched as he felt a hum from inside his jacket. "Ooo! Got a text!" He whipped out the psychic paper from his inside pocket. _Maybe River will be up for some fun,_ the Doctor thought absently, smiling to himself. He lifted the cover, and his eyes scanned the message. His brow furrowed deeply as he read it again, a quizzical expression on his face. Comprehension flashed, and an excited smile bloomed.

He shot out of his seat. Flipping the book closed he clapped it between his hands under his chin, startling Amy and Rory. "Brilliant," he muttered under his breath. He launched himself towards the confused couple, hugging them both tightly. His face was alight and full of a jovial glee that Amy and Rory had come to dread ever so slightly.

"Doctor?" Rory's tone was cautious.

Ignoring them both, he released them abruptly and ran over to the TARDIS controls, excitedly pushing button and turning dials. "Ponds! Its Christmas!" The Doctor grinned at the stunned pair.

Amy couldn't resist the smile pulling at her lips. "What are you going on about?" There was laughter in her voice as she pulled Rory closer to the exploding ball of energy that was the Doctor.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the couple. He was grinning uncontrollably. "A proper adventure!" he shouted, tossing the psychic paper over to them before focusing on the controls.

Amy caught the booklet with both hands reflexively. She lifted the cover, Rory leaning over her shoulder. "Doctor—what is this?" Amy said, staring blankly at the page. " 'Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. SH'? Whose 'SH'?" She looked at the Doctor expectantly.

Rory tapped on the paper, drawing Amy's attention back. "There's another message. 'If inconvenient come anyway. SH'" Amy and Rory exchanged confused glances.

"Bit rude, isn't it. Whose 'SH'?" Amelia asked again, shaking the booklet at the madman.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder, grinning. He threw a lever forward with a flourish. His eyes locked with the stunned expression of Mr. and Mrs. Pond. "Can't refuse an adventure with the famous Sherlock Holmes!"


	2. The Meeting

The three of them huddled around the TARDIS monitor.

"Isn't something interesting supposed to be happening now?" Amy asked.

Besides earlier in the morning when a tall, dark haired man arrived at the flat with a harpoon and covered in blood, little else had happened. Mostly, the travelers had found themselves watching Holmes and Watson bicker.

The Doctor grimaced. "Well, we could try to jump forward a bit in time to catch their next case, but quite frankly, I'm proud of my parking job in this tiny flat." He glanced uneasily at the pair, smiling sheepishly.

Amy didn't turn to look at the Doctor because she knew if she did, her thoughts would fixated on the hat. Damn hat with its plaid and flaps, creating a horrendous combination. Shoot. Now the hat was all she could think about. She cleared her throat. "Um. Doctor." She used her most placating tone. "I think the hat is a bit much." The Doctor looked at her blankly. Amy emphatically pointed at the screen that featured a consulting detective that was currently rummaging through stacks of papers and tearing apart the room. "_He_ isn't even wearing it."

The Doctor's hand fluttered protectively to the hat on his head. "Deerstalkers are cool."

Both Ponds immediately and simultaneously shook their heads and said, "No." Before the Doctor could respond a new man came into the room.

"Oh look, they've got a client." Rory pointed at the screen glad to steer the conversation away from the hat. His eyes squinted to make out what the detective was watching on the telly. He registered the documentary style footage. "Baskerville?" Rory sat up, an excited note in his voice. "As in 'The Hound of the Baskervilles'?"

Amy turned to him with an amused look. "You're such a dork," she said, giving him an affectionate shove.

"Amy." Rory held up a hand. "It's Sherlock—bloody—Holmes and 'the Hound of the Baskervilles.' This is absolutely fantastic." He said, shaking his head in disbelief.

The Doctor grinned. "Impossible hounds and top secret, off limit government facilities? Alright, folks. This is what we came here for."

Amy almost didn't hear what the Doctor said. She couldn't take her eyes off the hat. She plotted to destroy it.

The fear in the client's voice drew everyone's attention back to the screen. "It was huge. Coal-black fur with red eyes," said Henry. His eyes became distant as he thought about his father's last moments. "It got him, tore at him, tore him apart."

A shudder went through Rory. "What do you think it was? An alien?"

The Doctor's face was intense and focused. "Not sure. Certainly doesn't sound human."

"Wait, is Henry leaving?" Amy asked, watching the irritated man rise.

Sherlock seemed completely unperturbed launching into a rapid fire deconstruction of the stressed young man. "I didn't know. I noticed. You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I'd be delighted."

Sherlock's fast paced deductions mystified the TARDIS occupants.

Henry returned to his sit, his eyes glued to the detective. Sherlock continued, "It's just after nine fifteen. You're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?"

The client stared completely mystified. "No. You're right. You're completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick."

"It's my job," Sherlock responded simply.

"Wow—" whispered both Ponds.

"—that's brilliant," said Rory

"—what a knob," said Amy.

Amy turned towards the Doctor. "Well, now's a good a time as any to introduce ourselves." She started towards the TARDIS doors. The Doctor rana head of her cutting her off and standing in front of her.

"Nope." He held her firmly by the shoulders. "You saw him go off on Henry's napkin. If we went out there now, that man would never stop talking. What good is that? Done with the talking. Let's see what adventure we can find Ponds." He caressed the bill of the hat, making Amy shudder. The Doctor rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Let's beat them to Dartmoor and do a little of our own investigating."

The TARDIS faded into an alley in Grimpen Village, Dartmoor, but no one emerged from the police box.

"Absolutely not." Amy said, cutting the air in front of her with her hand. "I am drawing a line here, Doctor. I refuse to step one foot out of the TARDIS if you are wearing that. It's pretty close to physically painful to look at you."

The Doctor looked deeply wounded, staring at the cap in his hands. "What if there's an emergency, and we need it?"

Both Amy and Rory stared. Finally, Amy extended her hand. "I'll keep it. 'For emergencies,'" she said, sternly and with mock seriousness.

Looking at Rory for support, the Doctor's chest deflated as Rory avoided eye contact completely. He handed the hat over and grumbled out the doors. Rory and Amy followed; Amy tossing the hat covertly into the nearest possible bin with a relieved sigh. As they came around the alley corner, they saw a crowd returning from a tour.

"Don't be strangers, and remember: stay away from the moor at night if you value your lives!" A young man shouted dramatically to the small crowd of tourists.

The crowd was beginning to disperse around the young man with laughter. The Doctor and his companions floated around the edge of the crowd, moving towards the man packing up.

"Hello, I am the Doctor. Got any interesting clues about the hound?" The Doctor's gleeful tone had the man backing up a few paces.

Rory leaned close to Amy. "Is this the Doctor's idea of playing detective? Just asking people for clues?" Amy only turned her head and covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh.

Fletcher eyed the Doctor warily as he quickly gathered his things. "Sorry, mate. You from the papers?"

"No. More like a detective. Doctor Detective—or Detective Doctor, if you prefer," he shook his head after thinking for a second. "Actually, never mind that. Just the Doctor is fine. This hound—have you gotten a real look at it?"

Fletcher looked right and left as if he were going to bolt. Amy quickly stepped in between them.

"Hello! I'm Amy. Sorry about that. We're just here monster hunting." Amy smiled sweetly. "We were looking for some local perspective." She looked up at him through her lashes, twirling a strand of her hair. "I just think it's all _so_ exciting."

The young man flushed, his blue eyes widening. "Well—the hound has been a myth 'round here for years. Only Henry Knight's interview has everyone all interested in it." Fletcher put down his things and reached for his mobile in his pocket. He fumbled with his phone for a minute before showing her a picture. "See here?"

Amy, Rory and the Doctor leaned in. Not taking her eyes off the picture, Amy asked, "Look familiar, Doctor?"

"Yes—" he said, slowly. Everyone turned to stare at the Doctor, who was giving the image a final evaluating look. "It's a dog."

Amy exaggerated her disappointment. "Ah." She frowned and tried to look as dejected as possible.

Fletcher waved the phone. "Wait, wait. That's not all. People don't like going up there, you know – to the Hollow. I reckon there is something out there – something from Baskerville, escaped. In the labs there – the really secret labs, there are—terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs –" He paused dramatically, reaching in his backpack to pull out a large cement casting of a dog print the size of his chest. "—dogs the size of horses."

Everyone stood quietly, taking in the impact of the young man's words. The Doctor reached out, touching the imprint with a dark expression. He muttered something under his breath.

"Well," Fletcher said, tucking away the cast. "How's that for local perspective?" He gave her a cheeky smile. "If you want, we could grab a pint and maybe go out to the Hollow—"

"Pointless," Sherlock interjected. "The girl's a married woman."

* * *

Author's note: Sherlock, Season 2, episode 2 transcript: The Hounds of Baskerville by Ariane DeVere used as reference.


	3. The Monster

The group turned to face the detective.

"Who are you—" Fletch started.

Sherlock sighed heavily, closing his newspaper. "I'm the man that saves everyone's time by cutting to the point."

Amy scowled. The detective was even more irritating in the flesh. "I guess I flutter my eye lashes at a bloke like a married woman then!" she blurted out sarcastically before she could stop herself.

"Precisely." Sherlock replied in a clipped voice. When everyone stared dumbfounded, he rolled his eyes heavenward. "Of course not. She's wearing a ring." He used his newspaper to point at her hand. He tilted his head to the side and began to take in the group with more interest. He paced around them slowly. "Odd lot you are." His eyes slid over Amy and Rory before resting on the Doctor. "Not really the tourist type—"

"I wouldn't say that exactly. I'm practically a professional tourist," the Doctor replied with a challenging smile.

"Sherlock!" John jogged over to the group. "I called Henry—thanks, by the way, for leaving me in a wonderfully awkward conversation with the shop keeps." John registered the people standing around his ordinarily solitary friend with a look of surprise. "Oh, hello."

The Doctor stepped forward, extending a hand. "Hello, I am the Doctor. That's Amy and Rory."

"Oh," John said, taking the hand. "I'm Dr. John Watson. Always nice to meet—"

"He's not a doctor like you, John," Sherlock interjected. John shot his friend an exasperated look, but kept his mouth shut. Sherlock shrugged, flipping up the collar of his coat. "Well, we're off. There's nothing else here."

The Doctor rubbed his hands together. "Yes. We'll see you two at Baskerville, then."

Sherlock's eyebrows rose; his eyes scanning the Doctor again. Conflicting conclusions surfaced. His dress implied academia of some sort, but his hands showed none of the calluses or pressure marks nor did his speech patterns indicate a person working in academia. The Doctor's companions held him in high regard as he was obviously the leader of sorts, but the conversations and exchanges revealed a strange friendship with almost familial implications. Though they all appeared around the same age though not related, their speech and deduced backgrounds did not confer growing up together, but their familiarity did. _"The Doctor" _seemed like a code name, but no one simply revealed code names and the moniker was not treated as a nickname by the people around him by any kind of affectionate shortening. The Doctor was looking at him expectantly, so he stored the information away. "If you're going to snoop around the fences of the compound, do try and avoid the mine fields," he said, turning away.

* * *

The burlap cloaked man looked out of place in the lab. His hood hid his face in shadows completely, though the room was drenched in fluorescent light.

"He is coming," the hooded figure said.

The scientist fought the urge to step back. "Who?" These meetings never failed to unnerve him to his core.

"He has delayed us once before. We will not be patient for centuries more." A hand with black sharp nails reached out and clamped on the researcher's shoulder, ensuring the bite in his words was reflected in his grip. "If we fail, more than your precious research will be destroyed."

For a minute, Dr. Frankland's faith faltered. Maybe his project wasn't worth a deal with the devil.

The hooded figure squeezed to refocus the researcher's attention. "We will eliminate the obstacle in your way. We only ask that you keep _him_ away at all cost. He cannot know we are here. We are not ready to destroy him."

"Who?" He asked again, trying to convince himself he didn't just see a glint of long sharp teeth from beneath the hood.

"The Doctor."

* * *

Sherlock's mind couldn't shake the three strangers in Grimpen Village. His face was fixed into a scowl as he and John drove towards Baskerville. The army doctor was noticing his foul mood.

John glanced in Sherlock's direction again. He never saw the detective so cranky so soon in such an interesting case. John tried to resist saying anything, but couldn't stop himself. "You okay, mate?"

"There's something suspicious about that man."

John looked about, but saw no one in the vicinity. He scratched his head. "Sorry—who?"

"The Bowtie man."

"Who? Oh—" The tall man from the village flashed through John's mind. "Yeah—he was a bit of an odd one, but he probably thinks of you as equally weird if that helps." John paused and considered Sherlock's words carefully. "Wait—do you mean suspicious as in: might be involved with this hound of Baskerville business?"

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Possibly. You heard him say, 'We'll see you two at Baskerville, then'?" Sherlock continued without waiting for an answer. "Said with a certainty that he could get into the compound, and he didn't respond to my baiting about the mine fields around." His face relaxed as he thought.

"Well," John said, thinking back on the fresh young faces that only struck him as curious kids. "They don't look so tough. We could take them," he joked.

Sherlock's tilted his head. "Certainly. Only the short haired one has any kind of military posturing, though his stance isn't exactly like any military man I've seen." The thought made him pensive again. Very odd.

They stopped at the gates of Baskerville. A guard came around to Sherlock's side of the car.

"Pass, please."

Sherlock took out Mycroft's ID from his coat pocket.

A little ways down the road, the Doctor, Amy and Rory watched Sherlock and John drive into the compound.

"Are you serious?" Amy hissed as her grip tightened over Rory's waist. "We're just going to ride up to Baskerville on our little scooters?" One of her hands shot up to steady the helmet tipping on her head.

The Doctor looked a little too gleeful on his bright red scooter with goggles and all. "Well, we couldn't very well bring the TARDIS anywhere near this place." The Doctor replied. His head twitched, and he tried to spit out the bug that flew into his mouth, his scooter weaving dangerously. "Besides—" The Doctor turned to give Amy and Rory a boyish smile. "Fun!" He punched the gas, puttering ahead a little faster.

A guard stood a ways down the road with his arm out and an amused and confused look on his face. "Sorry. Baskerville is off limits to unauthorized civilians." He yelled over the motor of the scooters.

"Well!" The Doctor exclaimed, lifting his goggles and removing his helmet. "Good thing I happen to be an authorized fellow." He smiled, looking even more ridiculously with his brown hair mussed from the helmet. He pulled out the psychic paper with a flourish. "Doctor John Smith. Called in for a scientific consult. My two research assistants: Amy and Rory." He gestured to the pair behind him.

The guard took the paper in to be scanned. The Doctor sat patiently on his scooter, using his sonic screwdriver lowered at his side to trigger the scanner to give him proper credentials. The guards seemed satisfied and soon returned the booklet to the Doctor, waving him onward.

Once at the center of the base, the scooters were abandoned.

"How are we supposed to find out anything here?" Amy whispered nervously, eyeing the guns causally toted around.

The Doctor scanned the buildings around them in a full turn. He beamed excitedly. "Let's start with door with the most locks." He charged forward towards an intimidating looking door with the bright green light of his screwdriver glowing by his side, leaving Amy and Rory to run after him.

With a twist of his wrist the red door lock light turned green and the threesome moved deeper into the base. Up ahead of them, they saw Sherlock and John talking to solider.

"How many animals do you keep down there?" Sherlock asked.

"Lots, sir," corporal Lyons said.

"Any ever escape?"

"They'd have to know how to use that lift, sir. We're not breeding them that clever."

Sherlock gave the solider a meaningful look. "Unless they have help."

Dr. Frankland noticed the pair and stopped what he was doing to walk over to them. He had seen the hacked data feed about the unscheduled visitors, but had been unalarmed by the name Mycroft Holmes. When he saw and recognized Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, adrenaline shot through his body. The doctor and the detective. Why his dark benefactors decided to single out "the doctor" as the risk when Sherlock seemed more threatening was beyond him, but they hadn't been wrong yet. His mind raced. _How much did they know?_ He wondered as he took off his mask stepping up to the pair. He kept his voice as causal as possible. "Ah, and you are?"

"You can call me Smith, seeing as we already have a John," the Doctor interrupted, jumping into the conversation feet first. "This is Amy and Rory."

John looked startled to see them, and Sherlock's face was an unreadable mask.

"Sorry to interrupt," the Doctor continued. "But I think we're poking around for the same lab, so I thought it wouldn't be trouble for me to tag along."

Corporal Lyons looked a bit lost. "Who are you looking—"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for this. Show us to the labs; we have an inspection to complete."

Lyons stood a little straighter and nodded once. The solider turned to the scientist. "Sorry, Dr. Frankland. I'm just showing these gentlemen around."

Dr. Frankland tried to smile and nodded, pretending to lose interest. Once the group had moved on, he hurried to his computer to set off an alert on unauthorized forged access. _The doctor and his detective won't be investigating this base for much longer._ He thought as he chuckled to himself.


	4. The Monkey

Sherlock kept pace confidently, refusing to look at the strange group following along. John, on the other hand, couldn't help periodically shooting puzzled glances back at the trio. The Doctor tried to covertly swish around his sonic screwdriver and look at readings without running into people or objects. Amy and Rory looked around with matching worried expressions.

Lyons led them swiftly through another locked door with Sherlock's pass clearing the way. As soon as the doors opened, the group was assaulted with the screeching of various animals. Unaffected, the solider led the group to a busy woman in a lab coat. "Dr. Stapleton." Lyons intoned respectfully.

Sherlock's eyebrows lifted at the mention of the woman's name. His mind raced, making connections.

The Doctor, meanwhile, talked to a monkey.

Amy leaned in closer to the Doctor while Rory seemed divided by the separated groups. Rory's head whipped back and forth between the two. "Um. Shouldn't we be talking to the scientists to find out what's going on the labs?"

"Scientists don't know what's going on," the Doctor retorted after he apologized to the monkey for scanning him with the sonic screwdriver. "Marcel here, though. He has some interesting information." The Doctor shot a withering glance at Sherlock and John chatting to the scientist. "Besides, far too many doctors hanging around for my tastes. Feels like someone is shouting your name every few minutes. Very distracting."

Amy tilted her head to the side. "Well, what does Marcel have to say?"

The Doctor tucked his sonic screwdriver into his inner coat pocket. A self-satisfied smile started to creep on his lips. "Fascinating." He smiled broadly at the monkey. "I thought that was the case. Thanks for your help little friend."

The Doctor looked up just as Sherlock barreled towards him. The detective caught him on the elbow and began to drag him towards the exit of the lab. "Time to go. Hope you got what you came for," he smirked. Sherlock swiped the card and released the Doctor, not bothering to watch the rest of the gang scramble to keep up.

The Doctor smoothed a hand through his hair, smiling a cocky smile. "Of course. You?"

Sherlock kept a brisk pace even as he checked an inquiring text from Mycroft on his phone. His ice blue eyes were dancing with amusement. "Solved the case of Bluebell the kidnapped glowing bunny."

The Doctor made the equivalent of a mildly impressed sound. "Marcel the Monkey confirmed there are werewolves in Dartmoor. Cheers."

Sherlock's steps hitched for a moment, but to his credit, he kept plowing onward to the lift ahead. "I'd tell you, 'you're mad' or 'you're just making that up,' but I hear both those things quite enough to just wait until I can prove either those things about you." The lift doors opened to reveal Dr. Frankland.

"Hello—again," Dr. Frankland said as nonchalantly as possible.

The Doctor held the door open as politely as possible as the crowd squeezed in. John apologized to Frankland as he did his best not to invade his space. "Oh no bother," the scientist replied. "Did you find everything you were looking for?" Before John could answer the lift doors opened to reveal an angry bearded Major.

Lyons tried to intercept. "Er, um, Major—"

"This is bloody outrageous. Why wasn't I told?" Major Barrymore rumbled.

John stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation. "Major Barrymore, is it? Yes, well, good. Very good. We're very impressed, aren't we, Mr. Holmes?"

"Deeply; hugely," Sherlock replied blandly, glancing at another text from Mycroft on his phone as he stepped out. The Doctor, Amy and Rory quickly followed in suit.

"Sir!" Lyons called out, trying to keep panic from his voice as he pressed a nearby alarm button. "ID unauthorized, sir."

Amy grabbed Rory's hand, bracing herself for the order form the Doctor to run. She watched on the balls of her feet as the Doctor's hand slid into his coat pocket.

John held up his hands. "Look, there's obviously been some kind of a mistake."

Dr. Frankland watched the progression with amusement. This should detain them indefinitely. From the corner of his eye he saw a hooded figure move through the halls in the chaos. He felt a sharp pinch on his shoulder though no one was physically there. _Get the Doctor out. He is a danger to us if he stays here._ A sibilant voice whispered through his mind. He found himself stepping forward reflexively. "It's all right, Major. I know exactly who these gentlemen are."

Barrymore looked surprised. "You do?"

Dr. Frankland smiled. "Yeah. I'm getting a little slow on faces but Mr. Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place." He offered his hand. "Good to see you again Mycroft." Already, Frankland plotted in his mind. He would successful get the Doctor and Mr. Holmes away from the base, but he would need to keep an eye on them. He thought about what might happen to him if he disappointed his benefactors, and tried to control his face as a wave of nausea and fear washed over him. As the group walked away, he briefly wondered who were the young kids following them before he ignored them and faced Sherlock. "This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?" He really needed to eliminate that young man soon. The scientist nodded at their silence. "I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn't realize he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes! Oh, don't worry. I know who you really are. I'm never off your website. Thought you'd be wearing the hat, though."

"That wasn't my hat," Sherlock said immediately. The Doctor turned to Amy with a sharp look. Amy looked back at him and shook her head mouthing, "Not an emergency."

As if noticing them for the first time Frankland looked at the younger group. "Are these members of your investigation team?"

Before anyone could answer, the tall lanky man in a bowtie advanced on Dr. Frankland, keen on invading his space, cutting in front of him and stopping him in his tracks. His light eyes and serious face scanned him, and the scientist reflexively leaned backwards at the sudden intrusion. "Actually, we were doing a little bit of our own investigating. Does 'the Brethren' mean anything to you?" Dr. Frankland laughed uncomfortably.

"Is that some sort of fraternity—um Smith was it?" He tried to smile, but everyone could see how it faltered. "I am quite afraid we don't have that many young people running around here." Dr. Frankland took on a pensive look. "Now that you mention it though, there might be some hooligans mucking about in Dewer's Hollow." The researcher gave them a serious and considering look, hoping they believed it. "If you ask me, _that _would be the place to be looking. I wouldn't be surprised if some teens were terrorizing folk there for a laugh. Might have even gotten to Henry."

Sherlock stopped walking and finally spoke up. "You know Henry Knight?"

Frankland nodded, trying to school his features to sympathetic. "Well, I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend." He glanced round and noticed Major Barrymore watching them keenly. "Listen, I can't really talk now." Dr. Fankland hoped sincerely that they would take the bait as he handed over his number. "Here's my, er, cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call."

The Doctor glanced at the card with disinterest before passing it back to whoever would take it. Frankland smiled tersely before walking away.

"Well," Sherlock murmured when the scientist moved out of earshot, pulling at his coat collar. "That was interesting."

The Doctor turned to face the detective. "I would say so." He reached up to straighten his bowtie. "He seemed awful keen on us having a good look at Dewer's Hollow."

Sherlock looked at the Doctor with an almost imperceptible degree of respect. "Quite."

The Doctor grinned. "Tonight would be a spectacular night for poking around a trap."

The detective smiled a small smile in return. "I know just the man to show us 'round." They wore almost matching devious smiles. John, Amy and Rory felt similar chills.

* * *

The Doctor paced the TARDIS central room, tossing his sonic screwdriver between his hands and a concentrating look on his features. Amy and Rory stood off to the side, watching him suspiciously.

Amy agitatedly tried to control her fidgeting before she stepped in the Doctor's way forcing him to stop and look at her. "Doctor. What's going on?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Normally, you'd be spouting out alien gibberish and bouncing about, but—" Amy's eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform," the Doctor blurted out, startling everyone in the room.

"Lupine?" Rory started. "Like wolf?"

Recognition passed over Amy's face. "Like the werewolves you were talking to the monkey about."

"Marcel," the Doctor corrected reflexively. "Precisely, Ponds." He looked up at Amy.

"Really?" Rory said, incredulously. "The Hound is a werewolf?"

"Yes—well no, can't be. But yes—maybe," the Doctor replied. The turned and resumed pacing.

Amy shook her head, tampering down her frustration. "What is it, then? Yes or no? Have you seen these things before?"

"Exibit A: the Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform cells couldn't have matured that quickly since Queen Victoria's time—their incubation time is stretched out to centuries!" The Doctor flashed a glance towards Amy and Rory and seemed reasonably satisfied that they followed that train of thought. "Next, what you have recorded in your mythology of werewolves only very loosely resembles Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform—"

"So, they don't change in wolves?" Rory interjected.

"Well—yes. Humanoid wolves."

"So, they don't need moonlight?" Amy guessed, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"Well—yes. They do only transform under a full moon."

Rory and Amy shared a look. "So," Rory continued, "you don't turn you into a werewolf if they bite you?"

"Well—yes. They transmit through infecting bites." The Doctor could see their confused faces. "I was getting to the differences. As I was saying, number 3: Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform resembles a virus that completely carves out the identity of the host and occupies the flesh. A single cell takes at least a century to fully develop, and the number of cells in humans makes infection relatively harmless under many, many generations." A serious and dark look overtook the Doctor. "There shouldn't be even one mature creature. Somehow, infection has been manipulated at Baskerville. The questions are who and why?"

Amy nodded, hands on her hips. "Alright. What's the plan then?"

The Doctor smiled, marveling at Amy's bravery. "Stock up on mistletoe and go hunting for a werewolf in a dark foggy moor."


End file.
